


Christmas Lights

by MirandasMadeOfStone



Series: Healing Ink AU [4]
Category: My Mad Fat Diary
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2015-12-21
Packaged: 2018-05-08 17:29:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5506571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MirandasMadeOfStone/pseuds/MirandasMadeOfStone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>OK This is a weird one. Another Healing Ink thingy!</p><p>It wrote itself and is nothing like I planned. It was meant to be a snippet but at 5k I think it’s a protracted drabble or a mess. I’m not sure what I think about this. Normally I would leave for a week, rethink and pass to my wonderful and lovely beta…. @how-ardently This one’s for her. It’s a surprise so I’m not sure what she’s going to think.</p><p>Apologies if this is tripe…</p><p>BTW - Trigger warning - mention (but no description) of past abuse</p>
    </blockquote>





	Christmas Lights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [howardently](https://archiveofourown.org/users/howardently/gifts).



> OK This is a weird one. Another Healing Ink thingy!
> 
> It wrote itself and is nothing like I planned. It was meant to be a snippet but at 5k I think it’s a protracted drabble or a mess. I’m not sure what I think about this. Normally I would leave for a week, rethink and pass to my wonderful and lovely beta…. @how-ardently This one’s for her. It’s a surprise so I’m not sure what she’s going to think.
> 
> Apologies if this is tripe…
> 
> BTW - Trigger warning - mention (but no description) of past abuse

The steam curls and loops in a delicate haze as it rises from the kettle. Almost of their own accord, Finn’s fingers try to emulate its quickly dissipating patterns. A wry grin grows on his lips when he finally catches himself in the act. He shakes his head, then adds a third sugar to his mug, before leaving the tea to stew properly.

Making his way out through the back door to indulge in his biggest vice, his heart rate is already dipping at the prospect of the soothing effect of the cigarette. Today it’s much needed as it has been an exceptionally busy week, fitting in as many bookings as possible around college and his solo trip to Stamford.

Taking a long drag, his mind wanders back to his session with Kester on Tuesday, shoehorned into an already packed schedule. There may have been no specific event or worry to discuss, no raking over past traumas, yet it was an hour that, as always, left him drained and in need of a quiet evening to ruminate and recover.

The subsequent visit to his father had roused a sea of emotions as they shared memories of the holiday season when he was but a boy. Opening the albums of Christmases past had been like opening the floodgates. Things he’d struggled to articulate for years, burst forth and flowered into coherent sentences and expressions of long pent up feelings.

As he blows the smooth white train of smoke into the crisp air, he wonders whether he had actually stunned his father into silence, or whether it was simply a case of his father’s own emotions that rendered him so unusually quiet. Yet, it had been his father who’d retrieved the velvet lined jewellery box belonging to his nan, and had mooted the idea to him.  Choosing had not been easy. Rae was not the kind of girl to be wowed by the flashy pieces, neither did she suit the formal old-fashioned pearls or chokers.

He stares at slight tremor in his hand, wondering whether it’s the nicotine, the cold or anxiety of anticipation. His eyes look to the sky as if somehow it could reassure him that he’s made the right choice; that he’s neither about to go too far, nor not far enough, with his gift. He’s no internal gauge for predicting her reaction when it comes to something like this.

He muses over the way that she continues to surprise him; that she still makes him feel like a nervous schoolboy with a tummy full of butterflies, that every time he opens their front door excitement prickles his skin.

He’s so embroiled in his own wonder at how she affects him, that he doesn’t notice Mike walking towards him and startles as his friend’s firm hand claps down on his shoulder.

“There you are Finny.”

He blinks trying to connect back to the present.

“I’ve been calling you the last few minutes, you div!”

“Oh.” A flush spreads over his cheeks.

“Do you want me to get you some lunch?”

“What?”

“It’s one o’clock. You off with the fairies? Or are you thinking about Rae again?”

Finn’s averts his gaze to one side as he can’t prevent a silly grin growing on his face.

Mike’s laughter develops into a yawn and he claps hand over his mouth.

“You still knackered from Thursday?”

Mike nods and grins “It was a top night out. Haven’t been on the tiles in London for so long. Dancing until morning is taking me longer to get over these days.”

“Do I need to get your pipe and slippers?” Finn smirks.

“Ha fucking ha Nelson.” Mike pulls his beanie off and runs a hand through his hair. “It was all the shops Chlo dragged me round too. That girl would wear her shoes out before she tired of shopping!” His smile is warm and filled with affection.

“It was a great surprise to see you two and Rae. I had no idea any of you were coming.”

“Well, we had to celebrate the end of your first term at Art College in style!” He chuckles, patting his friend on the back. “Oh yeah. I forgot to mention that Graham gave me a book for you.”

“Graham” Finn’s entire face creases as he frowns. “Graham?” He mutters again more quietly, not failing to miss the way Mike shifts awkwardly from foot to foot.

“Err….yeah. I umm… I called in for some….some advice on a piece I’m working on.” Mike’s answer is directed at his shoes. “So uhh… how about a turkey salad for lunch?”

“Yeah…yeah, sounds good. You doing some blackwork or something?”

“Dotwork actually. Look I’m famished. I’d much rather have a hog roast roll from the café unless you really want a turkey salad?”

“Who said anything about turkey salad?”

Mike shakes his head and lets out something that is a cross between a shaky pent up breath and a laugh. “Can of coke and a muffin for pudding?”

Finn nods. It’s only when Mike is closing the door that he yells. “Could you get another muffin? Think Rae might like one for her tea.”

Mike’s acknowledgement never reaches his ears as Finn tries to recall exactly what Rae said about what she had been doing in London on Thursday. He could have sworn that she told him she’d spent the whole afternoon shopping with Mike and Chloe. There’d definitely been no mention of Graham. Surely she would have said something if she’d visited his old friend and tutor?

The puzzle is so consuming that he manages to drink half a mug of tea before he realises that it’s long been cold.

The carefully rehearsed words and questions leave his mind as soon as he opens the front door. For inside, standing amidst a tangle of Christmas lights is Rae, with tears of frustration running down her cheeks.

“Mae?” He looks to a Christmas tree that hadn’t been there this morning and then across to a small pile of presents on the table.

“I…I can’t untangle the stupid soddin’ lights.” She stutters uncharacteristically. “See?” She holds a knot of them in his direction. “They were wound around a bit of cardboard, so I pulled it out and now look at them.” She stamps her foot on a little petulantly on the floor, in a way that doesn’t worry him unduly.

“I wanted to get the tree all done as a surprise. But now you’ve messed it up and come home early….” Her voice trails off to a croak.

“It’s a…it’s a nice idea. But I don’t mind. It doesn’t really matter.” He tries to sound as calm and comforting as possible, detecting an undercurrent that has nothing to do with the state of the lights.

“But it does matter Finn. It matters to me.”

Panicking slightly as there’s no clue as to what’s wrong, he resorts to the practical; something he believes is his thing.  “Here.” He tries to take the bundle from her hands. “Let me…”

But Rae snatches the tangle away from him, turning her back with a harsh. “No. I don’t need your help.”

The room feels a little colder and darker as he steps back, trying to swallow down the dry lump that has formed in his throat.  

“Any idiot should be able to decorate a Christmas tree. Anyone should be able to get that right. Even a child could do it.” She spits out.

He bites his lip hard, his heart heavy in his chest at the rage in her voice and the way her hands shake and grab roughly at the lights. It’s as if her whole existence depends on ripping their entwined strands apart.

Fearful she’ll crush and cut herself on one of the glass bulbs, he shifts his weight from foot to foot until he can bear it no longer. He rushes over, intending to gently remove the wires she has balled up in her fists. However, she pulls them close to her chest and turns her back. “Piss off. This is my problem.”

The hand he gently places on her shoulder is shrugged away. Surmising that he will only exacerbate whatever is going on in her head, he walks towards the kitchen, tension tightening the muscles in his neck and shoulders. It’s when he passes the pile of presents, that he believes he’s found the answer. Taking a deep breath and rolling his head from one side to the other, he tries to compose himself, to find the right words.

“Umm Mae.” His voice comes out all pitchy so he clears his throat. “Did your mum visit today? I mean I thought she was coming tomorrow?” He takes the ensuing silence as affirmative. The missing piece of the puzzle.

“I get that you’re going to miss them all while they’re in Tunisia. It’s tough, especially at this time of year, not having your family around.”  Thinking he’s on the right track because she’s put the lights down, he continues. “I know you were especially looking forward to spending time with your sister. I’m sorry that you’re not going to get that chance over these holidays. But I am sure we could sort some time off in the New Year.”

When he hears the sound of her trying not to cry, he has to stare at his feet and tenses and flexes his stiff fingers. More than anything, he longs to sweep her into his arms, stroke her back and tell her that it’s all going to be ok. However, something deep inside keeps him standing still. But for once it’s his mouth that gets the better of him. “I’m so sorry Mae. Maybe if I wasn’t at college I could of afforded for you or us to go with them. But with only a week’s notice, there was no way I could find enough money or sort the time off work. ”

She looks up to meet his gaze, confusing him with the way her eyes burn with an unknown fire, eyebrows raised.

“I…I hoped that spending the holidays with me…I mean us spending our first Christmas together would kind of make up for…it would take your mind off things.” He reaches out to touch the wet skin of her cheek, but she flinches and then pushes his hand roughly away.

“It’s not all about you.” She spits out through gritted teeth.

“Mae.” He reaches for her again but she shakes her head and pushes past him uttering “Leave me alone.”

Something inside him loses hold and snaps. “What the hell? What has got into you today? You’re acting… you’re not making any fucking sense!”

The corner of her mouth curls up. “Just fuck off.” She snarls, shoving past him and grabs a coat. “I’m off to Izzy’s to see if I can help with Jacob.”

The front door slams resoundingly shut.  His coat falls off the bottom bannister in its wake. Finn’s hands automatically grab the back of the nearest chair to steady him. His head drops as the house echoes with the sound of his breathing. When he eventually makes it onto the chair, his fist hits the table in frustration before his head comes to rest in his hands.  
**

It takes two cups of tea and three cigarettes to put himself sufficiently back together to think properly. They’d argued before: mostly over predictable and trivial things. There had been short stand-offs, strops on her part and moods on his. There’d been slammed doors, the odd meal left untouched and a raft of cross words. Nonetheless, things had normally been resolved quickly with conciliatory words, hugs and promises to open up more. There had been the odd occasion where things had remained unresolved for a few hours. But they had never yet gone to bed on their anger.

He chews the inside of his first cheek, wondering if this will be the first time. However, something deep within tells him that at least one piece of the puzzle is still missing. There’s a trace of something at the back of his mind. But it’s like a scrap of paper caught in the breeze – he just can’t read the words.

Pouring himself a whiskey, he decides his soul needs music more than his body food. It’s Percy Sledge who graces their beloved turntable tonight. He allows the hurt and sorrow to roll through his body in waves, cognisant that he won’t be able to think clearly until they’ve been given due passage.

Frustration and discombobulation finally fade to grey such that his mind can ponder the enigma of her. The heat of her sun warms and brightens his life, the stars in her sky guide his way home, yet her depths are as unfathomable as the ocean.

Her horizons have broadened his, taking him to unknown places and new experiences. At times she had brought him to his knees, through pain he’d never known existed, yet there had always been something that had sustained him. Something that he could never quite name. A feeling he had never experienced for anyone else. Its intensity filled him with awe and sometimes threatened to overwhelm. It seemed to persist through every trial and transgression inflicted upon them and suffused him with a sense of hope.

He runs a hand down his face and sighs, a heaviness pressing on his chest. Although he thinks he shouldn’t, he can’t help but wonder what it would be like if it was all simple and straightforward with her. The conundrum has him pacing the room, pouring another drink, and disappearing into the garden for a smoke. It’s an interesting concept for they’ve had so many more good days than bad as of late, yet he’s aware that it’s also entirely unrealistic.

Back on the sofa, Ella Fitzgerald on the turntable, he accepts that he doesn’t mind complicated. It’s more than that, he relishes complicated. Because the deepest and darkest of lows made you soar that much higher when things were good. Maybe, having weathered such storms, you possessed greater understanding. An understanding that could set you free to become the person you were meant to be.

He shakes his head wryly at himself and his train of thought. But he continues regardless. Maybe there was something liberating in the discoveries you made in the face of difficult times, but at the same time, the battles were draining and potentially destructive. Each had the potential to drag you back to the depths, or worse still, extinguish the light that you had created.

A sinking begins in his stomach. The images of her tears and subsequent storming out torment him along with his inability to find the solution. He focusses on bringing the rhythm of his breathing in line with the beat of the music to calm the turmoil in his head.

He dismisses his first idea of going over to Chop’s. He can’t guarantee the calmness and peace the new family needs and deserves right now. Neither is he sure that barrelling over there, however carefully he does it, is actually going to help. What should he do next? He considers how he might feel if the roles were reversed and she were to wait up on the sofa for him. Would he find it possessive or patronising – like a parent waiting up for an errant child.

Then it comes to him. He may not be able to decipher the why, but he can understand that her behaviour is a reaction to deeply ingrained feelings. Feelings that she may or may not understand. He thinks of how he closes off when his emotions get the better of him, how he needs space to understand them and how questions make him retreat further into his own shell.

**  
He makes it into bed by 10, utterly drained from the argument and his own thoughts. He’s sure he could have found some drinking chums down at the pub, had he so chosen but it wouldn’t have helped. Instead, he’s picked at some food, tidied and cleaned the kitchen. But the lights? He’d left the lights and tree alone. It was not only something that she seemed to want to do, maybe it was also something she needed to do.

Rolling onto a hard mass in the bed, he retrieves the book Rae had been reading last night – Under Milk Wood. It’s a poor substitute but he reads until his eyelids are heavy, and a light, uneasy sleep takes him.

An hour later, he’s sure he can feel her lips against his cheek, her fingers stroking his hair with a feather light touch. Yet he doesn’t open his eyes for fear it is but an illusion. Only a couple of minutes later, the mattress shifts with weight of another body. Her familiar scent sends him back to a deeper sleep, which his exhaustion cannot fight.

“Finn….Finn.”  He can feel a gentle pressure against his right bicep.

“Finn.” There’s an urgency to her voice that breaks through his slumber. He groans and rolls onto his back. “Finn.”

He runs a hand over his face and rubs at his eyes, as his brain tries to find a gear.

“I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry.” She repeats, staring tearfully at him through wide red-rimmed eyes.

He turns his body to face hers, fingers tracing  the tracks of her tears. “..’s okay.” He responds gruffly.

“No…no it’s not.”

As he props himself up in bed, he glimpses the alarm clock: it’s 3:30am. Tentatively, he takes her hand in his and starts to run his thumb up and down her palm.

“I didn’t mean anything I said. None of it…not the bit about the lights, and especially not the bit about college and you.”  Great wracking sobs fill her body and scare him. Her reaction is neither expected nor seems entirely commensurate with thoughts of missing her family.

“I just…it’s just….my period came today. I know it’s no excuse……but it makes me feel….my emotions just seem to get the better of me. I can’t seem to get in control when…” She breaks down, hanging her head in shame.

“I get that it really affects ya. I get that it’s horrible.” He bites down on his lip, unsure of what to say next, what is needed.

“Yeah but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m such a bitch.”

“You’re not. We all get it wrong sometimes. I really shouldn’t have shouted at ya girl.”

Her tears fall harder now. “Why do you have to be so nice?”

There’s something in the tumult of her sobs that tells him something far more complex, something potentially nefarious is behind the state that appears could consume her. Running a hand through his hair, his brow furrows. “It’s not just about your family is it?”

She shakes her head. “I never wanted to go to Tunisia Finn. I just want to here with you. I don’t know why I said that stuff about college. It was mean and hurtful….” Her face falls into her hands.

Without thought, his hand stretches forward for her and strokes her arm gently. When she reveals her blotchy face, he simply tucks some hair behind her ear.

“I love you Finn. I really do.” Her voice is choked with emotion.

“I know.” He whispers. His fingers run slowly down the side of her face, his eyes focussed on hers, searching for some clue. He’s about to say something when she pitches forward against his body and clings on tightly. He can feel her chest heaving against his as she cries silently into his shirt. All he can do, is rub her back soothingly and hold on.  In the end she stills and he kisses the top of the head. The silence is palpable as he feels the reverberations of his own heart, hammering in his chest.  

Everything tenses and tightens until he can’t hold it in anymore “Was…was it the tree Mae?” He stutters.

She nods into his chest, a hand bawling the fabric of his-shirt. “I….it.” She takes a deep breath, holds it in for a lengthy period, then exhales slowly. “One Christmas with Liam. I…uh… He asked me to do the tree. But…but I couldn’t get it right could I? The first time he just knocked it over and told me to start over. I went and bought new decorations in the colours he said he liked. I spent so long sorting it out. But it wasn’t good enough….”

As she trails off, he strokes her hair, then murmurs against her head. “It’s alright girl. I’m here.”

She pulls back, glances up, then stares at the way her right hand is clawing at the left. “He err… the second time, he pulled the tree down and smashed all the decorations. He said it was all my fault for being useless. He said I could never do anything right….that I was a worthless piece of….”

The insidious twisting in his gut renders Finn nauseous. It takes all of his reserves to remain still and quiet.

“It was a really bad night. One of the worst.” Her voice is flat and monotone and her face remains passive as she utters her last statement. “It was a good thing that mum thought we were away in London and I didn’t see her for a month.”

She doesn’t flinch when he pulls her safely against him again. Tears seep from beneath his closed eyes as he rocks their bodies back and forth. He’s not sure whether it’s more for his benefit or for hers. He can’t help the comforting and endearing nonsense that falls from his lips.

When he finally loosens his hold to lift her face, to see her eyes, she simply gazes back unsteadily, the hint of a smile beginning on her lips. “I should have said something, I should have….” She pauses and plays with her hand in her lap before seeking out one of his. “Thank you Finn….thank you for listening, for being there, for hugging me…for just being you.”

“Ya don’t need to thank me. I love you. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“I don’t deserve….”

“We all say shit we don’t mean.” He shrugs. “But I’m glad you woke me up. I’m glad you told me.”

“It’s only a stupid tree. I just wanted to give you a surprise. I wanted it to be special and I…” He notices that the usual brightness hasn’t returned to her eyes, that she looks sad and defeated.

“Mae, how do’you feel about me helping you with the tree? I mean do ya perhaps think that it could be a bit of fun if we were to decorate it together?”

She bites her lip and her face quirks into a smile as she nods.

“How’s about it then?” He holds out a hand.

Her eyes grow wider as he pulls her to feet. “What now? She giggles.

His top teeth toy with his bottom lip as his fingers caress her inner wrist. “This is the best time. This time…” There’s joy and enthusiasm in his eyes and one of his special mega-watt smiles crinkling up his face. “It’s like stolen time. The rest of the world is asleep and you know you should probably be asleep too. It’s kind of magical.”

**  
When Finn gets to work with the lights, he finds them in even more of a muddle than he’d thought. “Mae, come here, think I’m going to need your help.” He calls.

He throws a tangled strand around her shoulders and then switches them on. “Easier to untangle when they’re on. They kind of make more sense when they’re glowing.”

He grins at the bemused expression on her face as he carefully tries to separate the two strands. It’s harder than he thought and he’s soon distracted as Otis Redding’s “I’ve been loving you too long” begins to play. Before he really understands what he’s doing, he’s dived into the lights and taken her hands in his. “Dance with me girl?”

“Shouldn’t I put the lights down?”

In response, he picks up more lights and throws them over his own shoulders. Their bodies sway together as one in the dim glow of hundreds of brightly coloured bulbs that sit like a garland on their shoulders, trail down their backs and pool on the floor.  

She doesn’t let go when the song finishes, instead choosing to lead into the next track by kissing him slowly on the lips, before settling back to where she belongs. The lightness in his chest renders him giddy and lifts him such that he’s no longer sure that his feet are on the floor. Confidence seeps in pore by pore until he’s kissing her neck and running a hand through her hair.

Rae moans softly, feeling his lips against her skin. There’s just the right amount of pressure in his touch to comfort and reassure without being too much. He’s always had this ability to make the past seem that bit less threatening, the world that little bit safer and her own struggles that much less frightening.  It’s as if he can read something of her inner realm through his touch. It’s all in his hands, his mysterious and miraculous hands.

The thought has her fingers seeking out his, to intertwine them on her hip. Her other hand runs down his face, delighting in the contrast between his smooth skin and the four day old stubble that graces his jawline. Moving back fractionally, she catches him -  eyes shut, running his bottom lip under his top teeth. All too soon, his eyelids flutter open and she’s welcomed by two dark pools.

Lights strewn around his shoulders, eyes wide and lips slightly parted, she finds him ethereally mesmerising.  It’s like he’s her own special Christmas angel; someone who helps her navigate the obstacles that life throws at her and leads the way like a guiding light when she’s lost. Although there’s something mystical about their silence, she can hold it in no longer. “I absolutely fucking love you.” She whispers. “And I’m so sorry.”

He places a finger against her lips. “All in the past my dear.” He cups her cheek with his hand, seeks assent with his eyes and kisses so tenderly and reverently that it leaves her breathless, before returning to their dance.

Revelling in the way he moves their bodies more freely, rolling his hips in time with the music, she discerns that his movement is a representation of his feelings. Tonight it’s not simply about the need to feel her close, to express his love; it’s also a way of dissipating tension in both his body and mind.  
**  
Having danced until the needle found the middle of the LP, it then takes the best part of an hour to get the lights on the tree.

“They don’t look half bad, considering they’re still not untangled properly.” Finn steps back, surveying their handiwork.

“Only thanks to you Finley. I think I put more knots in them than you took out.” She laughs. “How’s about you start on the decorations, while I make the tea?”

Rae watches with interest from the kitchen doorway as Finn decorates the tree. Him being an artist, she expects him to have a grand design, a vision or scheme in his mind. Yet he appears to be haphazardly placing an assortment of decorations, a riot of colour, all over the tree with boyish enthusiasm. It’s absolutely infectious and she’s soon joining in.

A hand slips round her waist as she reaches high to hang a bauble. Suddenly his lips are against hers, placing a succession of small kisses from one corner of her mouth to the other. When he’s back to the task, she can’t resist throwing an arm around his shoulders, drawing him in, and stealing another kiss. And so it continues until he hands her the star and helps her onto a chair, anchoring her at the hips so she can crown their creation.

Rae takes Finn’s hand in hers and steps back to view the finished tree, resting her head on his shoulder. “It’s beautiful.” She breathes.

“My nan would have approved. She loved Christmas you know.”

She squeezes his hand then wraps her arms around him, rocking him gently in the soft radiance of the only lights now on in the room.

“Much as I’d like to play the B-side of that LP, think we might actually need to think about getting some sleep.” He begins, incapable of stifling a yawn.

“Oh. I want to just look at the tree a little longer.” She pouts a little.

“Well I suppose we could kip down here on the sofa?”

The idea is the very essence of him: accommodating, thoughtful, caring and a little off the wall. Rae loves it. Her feet lift her a little off the floor: it’s more a hop than a jump into his arms. But the lazy smile it elicits is worth a hundred such graceless manoeuvres.

“So umm… do you need a hot water bottle and stuff?”

“Finn.” Her voice is a little sterner than intended “I can get my own hot water bottle you dickhead. And the pillows and duvet. You just need to lie back and let me do something for you for a change.”

He frowns. “You know I don’t mind doing stuff for…”

“Course I do. It’s just you look exhausted. Go on. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.” By the time she has ever so quietly put the radio on, he’s already stretched out on his side, eyes half closed, head resting on a folded arm.

She pulls the covers over their bodies, pressing her back against his chest. His arm curls around her waist and his lips press a single kiss to her neck. Within minutes, she knows he’s asleep; his breathing is deep and even, his body relaxed and heavy against hers and his grip has loosened.

As she replays the night in her mind, she can’t help but take his hand in hers. A sense of amazement fills her as he interlaces his fingers between hers in his slumber. It feels as if her chest might burst with the tremendous rush of affection and intensity of emotion she feels for him. It’s one of the those ridiculous moments where all she wants to do is wake him and let it pour out of her in great torrents. But she can’t do it now as he’s only just fallen asleep.

Then it hits her that this is perhaps how he sometimes feels, when he’s unable to express what’s happening within him because he can’t find the right words. Mulling this concept over, she realises that tonight she was the one who couldn’t find the right words. She was the one who bottled things up until they destructively exploded out of her.

She sighs and snuggles right back against him, lifting their joined hands to her mouth to place a kiss on his roughened skin.

The cogs of her mind continue to whirr at a million miles an hour, trying to unpick the entirety tonight’s debacle. She recalls that she had cancelled her visit to Kester because of her trip. Going to London had primarily been her suggestion but she’d needed Mike’s advice and buy in to the idea she had been toying with for a while. Since it had taken her more than two weeks to think it through properly and work up the courage to ask him, the whole thing had been very last minute. Graham had somehow provided the space and time she needed to fully consider the idea and put together what she needed for her unusual Christmas present for Finn.

As she gazes upon the tree, she wonders if he will understand it and whether it’s enough. Enough to express something of the expanse and constellations of what he means and is to her.


End file.
